


We Strive Together

by kingburu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy wearing the A-2 Flight Jacket piqued Steve's interest. Then, everything that followed in suit made him more concerned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Strive Together

It started when Steve was taking the subway back to his apartment in Brooklyn. He noticed a meager kid sit down across from him, who wore a worn-down A-2 flight jacket too big for his body.

 

The kid himself looked maybe twelve or thirteen, while the jacket looked like a spitting image of what Steve would see back in the 40s. He reminded Steve of the old Steve, who would try on his best friend's attire late at night or early in the morning before Bucky would be gone again. The shirt used to taper down Steve's frail legs, while his hands got lost through the sleeves. 

 

Steve's impulse suggested going to talk to the boy. Maybe he was a history buff, and they could bond while the boy talked fondly of interesting facts and Steve could relive them. 

 

A flock of high school students came onto the subway on the next stop, one even accidentally sitting on the boy. The boy slunk away unnoticed, walked across the cart, and sat beside Steve. He whipped out an mp3 player from his pocket and closed himself off from the world once his headphones were in. 

 

Thinking nothing of it, Steve stayed silent and made sure the boy wasn't sat on again.

 

The kid must’ve have been quite a charmer, Steve decided. He’d got up when a mother and a child came in, and thought nothing of it.

 

Then unsurprisingly, like all the other surprises Steve faced since the big wake up, the subway was suddenly assaulted by a giant—who was nine-feet tall and nearly twice the width. When he stepped onto the cart, he put a dent in the floor and went straight for the boy.

 

The boy yelped, everyone screamed, and Steve whipped out his shield.

 

As everyone shot out the door—mother and baby, high school students included—Steve knocked the man over his head, shoved his shield into the man’s jugular, and tried to restrain him.

 

“ _Run!_ ” He remembered shouting.

 

Except the boy didn’t. Instead, he whipped out a brooding black sword, lips morphing into a scowl while his tired eyes glared at the giant

 

“When I stab him,” the boy started simply, “ _you_ run.”

 

When Steve blinked, he saw fur. Thick blazing fur, and two spiraling horns.

 

The fight was as much a blur as the aliens, but Steve took an unconscious boy home. The half-man, half beast disintegrated, Steve treated wounds for himself and the boy, and the teen was gone before Steve woke up the next morning.

 

\---

 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Steve received tokens at his front door or inside his apartment. He had no clue how someone could break into his apartment unnoticed—and even wondered if he should give in and let Tony install a gaudy overzealous security system in his home.

 

By the fifth token, however, Steve realized nothing was stolen and everything was a gift. The first gift was a brand new first-aid kit—while others varied between a Big Mac and French Fries, along with milk (Steve’s favorite order—so someone was definitely stalking him) or fresh fruit in his fridge, since he went through so much food.

 

“So this guy breaks into your apartment and he leaves you hot meals and a first-aid kit.” Nat smiled devilishly one morning when they were taking a jog together. “I wouldn’t trust it. Either you have an overzealous fan that’s going to leave you a bag of hair soon or someone is trying to pull you into a false sense of security.”

 

“People really do that?” Sam wrinkled his nose, finishing up a lap before coming to a bench that held all their things. “Like, real hair? Isn’t that a little messed up?”

 

“I think she’s just kidding.” Cracking a coy smile, Steve wiped the sweat off his brow and downed a bottle of water.

 

“People are willing to give you a lot of things,” Natasha assured. “Trust me. That’s pretty normal.”

 

“In what realm of _normal?”_ Sam’s eyebrows arched high in the air.

 

Another smirk curled over Nat’s lips before she trudge toward the track.

 

Steve followed after her. “On your left!”

 

\---

 

After another visit to the Captain America museum, Steve returned home. The boy from nearly three weeks ago sat outside his door, with a bag of McDonald’s at his side. The flight jacket lay across his lap like a large blanket, while he munched on crispy French fries.

 

“You should be more respectful to that jacket,” he said without thinking about it. “I know a lot of brave men who wore it back in my day.”

 

Dark eyes looked up, as tired as the day Steve first saw them. The young boy observed him quietly, another French fry in hand.

 

Steve unlocked his door and gestured inside. “You wanna come in, son?”

 

The young boy trotted after Steve once the lights were on. Steve pulled a chair out for him to sit.

 

“I hear you’re Captain America,” said the boy.

 

“I don’t really make an effort to hide my identity.” Smiling weakly, Steve retrieved a glass of milk from the fridge and sat across from him. “I see that your wounds have been healing well.”

 

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Thank you for that.”

 

“Not a problem.” But a young boy carrying a sword and ready to throw himself into battle was. Steve felt his heart constrict. He always tried to think before judging, but every fact in this equation worked against the boy. “Thanks for the gifts. You really didn’t have to.”

 

Again, the boy shifted. “I saw you.”

 

“On the news?”

 

“Yes.” He wrinkled his nose. “No. Back then. When you first became the Captain. I…saw you _become_ the Captain.”

 

Steve frowned.

 

“I don’t know you because I’ve seen you from the news here. I mean—I have.” The boy breathed, his fist clacking against the table. “But I know you, because I would see films of you during the war. I’m from the 1940s too.”

 

Opening his mouth, Steve tried to respond. He couldn’t.

 

“I’m a son of Hades,” the boy confessed. “My name is Nico. And—I looked up your records in the Underworld and saw everything about the super-serum. And then how you came to this time.”

 

The Nico’s brow furrowed together. His expression was nothing less than analytical, but Steve could see the glimmer of fascination in his eyes.

 

Again, Steve’s mouth parted. He shut it carefully before finding answer. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because I’m the reason you got in trouble.” Nico finished off his chicken nuggets and threw his trash in the McDonald’s bag. Wiping his face on a napkin, he stared back at Steve with a mixed expression. “You should at least know why.”

 

“That manbeast was attacking civilian. You were just brave enough to stop it.” Steve shook his head. “You’re in no shape to fight, son. Leave it to the Avengers.”

 

“That’s the point.” Nico smiled back grimly. “I either fight or I die.”

 

The morbid answer set chills up Steve’s spine. It never set right with him—sending someone so young in to fight.

 

“That’s a beautiful phonograph you have over there,” the young boy croaked. He gestured to one of Steve’s end tables, where it sat in mint condition. “I noticed you had a Maria di Angelo playing the other day.”

 

“You know of her?” Steve’s lips pressed together. Not many this day and age knew who she was.

 

“She’s my mother.” Another sullen answer. Nico’s eyes shut close as he breathed before looking up again. “I’m sorry for breaking into your apartment.”

 

From the way Nico looked at him, Steve knew the boy was telling the truth. “Do you need a place to stay?”

 

The reluctance was apparently instinctive. Nico stared at him with the same analytical cues in his eyes, hands curling at his lap.

 

“You may have given me a new first-aid kit, but I should return the favor after you’ve provided me with other gifts,” Steve continued. “I can tell you and I have that alike. We get satisfaction out of helping out someone who has helped us.”

 

“And you believe me?”

 

“I trust my gut. And my gut tells me you’re not a bad kid.”

 

Those eyes of Nico’s showed age that Steve hated seeing in kids so young. But the smile that curled over his lips was a big one—lighting up like a beacon for the first time in ages. And Steve could relate to that.

 

 Sometimes it was hard to feel happy, even when everything worked out right. But smiles like the one on Nico di Angelo’s face was one that could wipe all of your fears away—even if they only existed for a second.

 

\---

 

Over the course of five months, Steve made sure that Nico got in at least one full meal a day. There was a little more meat on him with the new diet. Nico explained that the manbeast that they saw was the _Minotaur_ —and he was surprised when Steve accepted the answer so quickly. After all, one of Steve’s best friends was the Norse God of Thunder.

 

Apparently, not as many people were aware of Captain America in the demigod world as Nico was. Electronics were strictly banned for halfbloods because it attracted monsters, so some didn’t even know the Avengers were a group of hero that defended the world.

 

It took two and a half weeks to earn Nico’s trust. The boy would come and go from Steve’s apartment.

 

First, Steve would offer his couch along with some blankets and a pillow. Nico slept in spouts, depending on how often he shadowtraveled.

 

 Steve hated sleeping long because he feared what would happen when he woke up. It stirred plenty conversations between the two of them. The phonograms, the war, the— _M &Ms? _Nico had quipped one day. They both laughed.

 

When his apartment building was destroyed and he was forced to find a new one, Steve decided to invest in a pull-out couch. Nico had politely declined, but it was obvious to the both of them that he was getting used to dozing off while in the apartment.

 

(After that, he helped Steve pick out the furniture.)

 

Jason Grace was one of the first friends Nico brought over, alongside Percy Jackson. Percy Jackson had a faint idea who Steve was, apparently from the US History books. Both held their heads high as camp leaders.

 

Steve could tell that Jason was raised with a standard, military background while Percy was getting there. Both were intense in their own way—Jason stern, and Percy wild. Both unsettlingly powerful.

 

The way they talked to each other reminded Steve of exciting and memorable nights with the Howling Commandos, as a tight-knit group with just one bright heart.

 

Both leaders could jest and be stern all in one notion, from the looks of it.

 

Nico confided in Steve after they left how uncomfortable they made him feel. Jason was alright, but Percy—was a story that stopped Nico in his tracks before he could finish the story.

 

Jason was also a constant visitor—even when Nico himself wasn’t around. He always came with hope that the latter was there, but it ended with heavy discussions. _Roman_ war wasn’t different from a _World_ War. A lot of the times, they were intertwined together in a tight ball of yarn.

 

With time, Steve patted the boy on the back, muttering a _good job_ , because he could tell that Jason cared for his comrades. He was a boy who needed praise and assurance and a _you did good_ from an adult, father-figure in his life, and didn’t often get that.

 

Steve didn’t know what this _cat and mouse_ was between Nico and Jason, but there thought no harm in it.

 

With time came Reyna, who was even more guarded, and even more protective of Steve’s new friend. She came by, shared tea with Steve, and discussed Nico’s gentle spirit under all of that anger and darkness.

 

“He lashes out, but it isn’t always intended that way.” She gestured to the boy who was now asleep four six hours on Steve’s sofa, and shook her head. “He’s pure-hearted. No one seems to understand that he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

“So you approve of me?” Steve asked with light humor. He agreed with everything Reyna had to say, however.

 

“I approve,” Reyna decided.

 

After that came Hazel and Frank, who were in every bit in love as Steve could see. He watched them hold hands when they thought no one was looking. Hazel was tiny—but powerful. Steve knew to never underestimate someone based on their size.

 

Nico’d asked for a place to stay, apparently running away from the Hydra. (“The organization or the monster?” “Definitely the monster.”) He apologized tenfold, before politely asking for the first-aid kit.

 

“I can handle myself against some Hydra,” Steve said as he watched Nico bandage up his sister. They were low on nectar, apparently.

 

“No, you can’t,” Nico countered. “You can hardly see through the Mist.”

 

“Nico’s right,” Frank agreed. He looked better off than his partners, but still tired. “We’re reeking up the place as is—hopefully we can cover this scent before we leave.”

 

It was a hard trade-off. Steve could _see_ the Minotaur, but believe that it was a man. Nico’d explained that you either had it or you didn’t—and in some cases, you tried as hard as you could and all you would see was a blurry image. So Steve could try to help, but it was like going into a fight deaf and blinded.

 

Likewise, Steve refused to let Nico help with the dangers he faced himself. Nico was still too _young,_ even if he faced other evils himself. The last thing they needed was for a camera to ask who Captain America’s new _superboy_ was.

 

So instead of combat, Steve supplied the trio with a tent that never left his closet and blankets to sleep in the outskirts of the city. They shadowtraveled out of his apartment once well-rested, and Steve never saw them again for the rest of the night.

 

Later on, he received a visit from Hazel, with neither brother nor boyfriend in sight.

 

“He trusts you a lot,” she admitted while borrowing his kitchen to make shrimp gumbo. “And he’s beating himself up for throwing you in danger.”

 

“He’s a great kid. Both of you are.” As an afterthought and through the tiredness from patrol, Steve added, “You didn’t have to make me food, sweetheart. You should get some sleep.”

 

Hazel shook her head in a way that reminded Steve of Nico. They shared the same gestures, whether they knew it or not. From the way Nico described her, Hazel was apparently from a different age, too. She used to be dead, before he snuck into the Fields of Asphodel to take her spirit out.

 

 _She died too young_ , Nico explained. And everyone— _everyone_ deserved a second chance. Steve knew that the young hero held just a sliver of resentment for his other late sister, Bianca, for choosing reincarnation. She was yet another death that came too young, and even her revival was out of his hands.

 

Steve told him about Bucky—of how Bucky left Steve’s life, and how his revival killed both of them on the inside. He still had hope for his best friend, the same way Nico hoped he’d meet his sister again someday.

 

  _Everyone_ would say that the past was in the past. Sam was his anchor—a new comrade to keep him in line. But neither he nor Nico could move on, when they both know that they’d cross paths again with their loved ones.

 

“It kills me to see you two having to fight out there,” Steve said. His heart ached as he remembered the bumps and bruises Frank, Nico, and Hazel all held earlier in the week. “I wish you could just stay at home, go to school, and have lives away from everything else.”

 

The smile over Hazel’s lips was strained. She showed more emotion than Nico right off the bat, but every expression was twice as emphatic. “I went to school. Didn’t like it very much. My friend, Sammy, made it better, but I never got to see him again before I died.”

 

“It’s a terrifying feeling,” Steve agreed. “Closing your eyes one instance and not knowing what’ll happen the next time you open them. Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m going to lose everything again.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Hazel sighed. As she finished cooking, she moved toward Steve and placed the food on his plate.

 

He stood up to pull out her chair before she sat down.

 

“I think you’re good for him,” Hazel admitted. She scrutinized him carefully, fork at hand, and tapped her fingers against her knee. “I mean—I have Frank, and Percy and Reyna, and all of my other friends. And I especially have Nico. But he doesn’t trust people because they get nervous being in the same _room_ as him. My brother doesn’t open up to a lot of people, but I think he’s told you more in the past few weeks than he has in the year and a half that I’ve known him.”

 

“You don’t mean that.” Steve shook his head, but felt a warmth in his heart. He sipped the food experimentally and felt it coat his throat with fragrant heat. “He puts you before… _everything_ , Ms. Hazel. This is really good.”

 

“Thanks.” Hazel beamed proudly. “It’s almost like my mother’s recipe.”

 

“She would have been proud,” he murmured back.

 

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her stunning gold eyes examined him as he ate the food in silence. Hazel bowed her head before opening her mouth to speak. “Our father and I have a silent agreement to never see each other. Otherwise he would have to take me back to the Fields. Nico is on good terms with Dad, but apparently Persephone manipulates every one of Dad’s decisions behind his back. You’re the only adult Nico actually trusts.”

 

Steve’s heart swelled at the thought. At this age, most of his friends were dead. He would have been the best man at Bucky’s wedding maybe sixty years ago when the war was finally at an end and they came back to their sweethearts—or they would have been _each other’s_ other half.

 

 He would have married Peggy back then, maybe, if he and his best girl could dance. Where he could wrap his arms around her waist, like the first day he imagined, and see if they fit as well as Bucky and he did.

 

Maybe he would have a kid or two, and they would give him grandchildren, and he would be telling them stories about the war, about his best friend, about his best girl, and about his life growing up.

 

Most of what he wanted was too outdated for this time period—but having someone to talk to like a little brother or son or old soul made time freeze, so he could finally _breathe._

 

Even with an extra seventy years latched onto him, Steve couldn’t _fathom_ getting married and having kids right now. Some day.

 

But at least he could say it was within his realm of interest now.

 

“I’ll make sure I never betray that,” Steve promised. He wrapped fingers delicately over silverware and smiled firmly in her direction.

 

“ _Iuncta_ _iuvant_.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“‘Together they strive.’” Hazel finished her plate quickly and bowed her head politely. “I’m counting on you.”

 

\---

 

Eventually, the other Avengers got it in their mind that Steve was running a babysitting service. He put the blame on Clint, and suddenly had an influx of demigods and Avengers visiting his apartment at the same time.

 

It made taking down bad guys even easier, but it was still an odd sight.

 

Bruce would share calculations and sedation methods with Annabeth and Piper—the girlfriend and ex-girlfriend of Percy and Jason respectfully. He seemed to enjoy Annabeth’s scientific mind and their combined effort to bring him closer to zen. Frank shared his explanation of transforming into different monsters, and tried his best to help Bruce find equilibrium between himself and the Other Guy.

 

Nat and Maria enjoyed combat with Reyna, who showed them several roman battle tactics in return. (She was absolutely confused when Tony kept trying to update her automatons’ “operating system.”)

 

Leo Valdez, another friend of Jason’s, shared Tony’s enthusiasm in inventing and substituted alcohol with more coffee than should be legal.

 

Thor shared Percy’s vigor and insisted on challenging Jason on epic battles and going on noble hunts back on Asgard.

 

As far as Steve knew, Clint volunteered to teach Frank “archery and other things,” and after ten minutes of lessons, Frank wet himself and declared he was staying five feet away from Clint at minimum.

 

Steve was content with talks with Nico, of heavy discussions that plagued them in the 1940s and what happened now, seventy years later.

 

Sam bonded well with Hazel. When Steve asked why, Sam simply said, “You need us. We’re like your wings, man,” and Steve never argued with that logic.

 

Over time, Steve realized his relationship with Nico was getting more attention. Ms. Potts sent over fresh groceries and provided information about a two-bedroom apartment that would suffice for the both of them. Maria and Nat took to training _all_ of the demigods at Steve’s door, whether they liked it or not, and Bruce and Jane Foster sought a way to use the Mist to their advantage.

 

Nico would stay longer nights—usually by himself because he didn’t like crowds. He would sleep in extended periods because he felt safe, and Steve would sleep too, because he was _happy_ that Nico felt safe.

 

On both parts, it didn’t stop the nightmares. Of being frozen—waking up again, to a lost world, losing his best friend over and over and _over—_

 

—of being a ten-year-old kid, and losing your sister before ever finding yourself. Of having every higher power hate you and want you dead, especially the _Queen_ of higher power, because you were different.

 

Steve asked why and Nico choked on tears when he answered, and Steve hugged the boy close to his chest anyway, because being _different_ didn’t mean you were _less than anything_ , and being that _different_ wasn’t going to make everyone suddenly _hate_ _him_.

 

Nico was _fourteen_ , but _only_ fourteen, and he was still a child who had no choice but to succumb to the will of gods.

 

At the peak of rage, Steve shot out the door in aimless attempt to find Hades, the God of the Underworld, but was coaxed down by an equally incoherent Nico who blabbered, “I-I don’t want you to _die_ because of me!”

 

He only calmed down so Nico could follow in suit.

 

After a while, Steve decided he didn’t _care_ if he couldn’t see through the Mist. He followed the boy whenever he could around Brooklyn to help out, and shot his shield where Nico directed. Then, Nico accompanied Captain America on late-night missions or patrol when his comm.-link would inform him of danger.

 

The media soon got ahold of the fact, calling the “Mysterious Young Man” Captain America’s new partner in crime and dubbing him _Aviator._

 

Once Steve explained it all, Nico snorted.

 

“I guess I _did_ want to be like you when I was a kid. Everyone did, though.” Nico tapped his finger against the newspaper article. Right next to it was a blurry picture of Nico in the night, wearing an old masquerade mask that was left in the attic from the old owners.

 

“You and I must be seeing a lot of each other if the news is making a big deal about it,” Steve pointed out. He stared at the picture carefully, with Nico looking over his shoulder. “I would shadowtravel from now on to avoid the paparazzi.”

 

Nico crinkled his nose. “I’m going to have to rest in between. That’s why I take the subway when I’ve shadowtraveled too long.”

 

“Just sleep here,” Steve said. “You know you’re always welcomed.”

 

He watched the boy chew on his lip thoughtfully and decided not to press the subject. However—he could see Nico contemplating.

 

“You’re not a bother,” he assured. “I like your company.”

 

It took several months, Steve realized—it was eight, now—but Nico stopped analyzing his words. He took them at face value, which was full value, because Steve never lied.

 

When a year passed, with Nico fifteen and both of them another year further from their past, Steve showed the boy papers he’d owned since the night he swore hatred against Hades.

 

Nico stared at them in shock, with a bold heading that read: **ORDER OF ADOPTION.**

“I have one for Hazel, too,” Steve confessed. He knew better than to request one without the other.

 

Whipping out two yellow envelopes, he let Nico peruse the official-looking documents inside. JARVIS-modified birth certificates, a social security card, medical records, and everything else that could literally fool the American Government.

 

“I know that you and she have your own lives, but you’re still minors. And I’m willing—I _want_ to take care of you.” Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, and held back the first sign of emotional tears.

 

It took a week.

 

Nico disappeared without contact, which Steve hadn’t dealt with in months, and both of them spent days torturing themselves with the pros and cons of _them_. Of their relationship, of what they meant to each other, and how integrated both _their worlds_ had been since that first afternoon on the subway.

 

After one week and signing several documents, Steve and Nico both went to bed for the night—eager for the next day to come.


End file.
